Time Enough
by Bellicose Blue
Summary: For one moment, he has her, and it is enough.


The first thing he knows is pain.

Muscles seizing from the electricity, bones shattered from the fall, he awakens from unconsciousness with a scream that dies in his spasming throat. His old scars reawaken, and it burns. He burns.

He feels the pain all throughout his body, and with the pain comes anger- at the Emperor, at himself- and he could so easily use that anger, draw from it and pour himself into it to make him stronger, to make his body into a vessel to serve him, and for a moment he falls back into that well-worn routine, feeling the pain dull to a roar as his mind turns hazy, but no. This is not the way.

He shudders with the strain as he takes in a deep breath, then releases it, and with it goes his anger and even some of the pain. Too bad he hadn't learned the true power of the Light sooner. He had thought it too slow, too timid, but there is strength in patience. There is strength in him.

How foolish of the Emperor to think a fall would be enough to kill him.

He opens his eyes. He is lying on a ledge thirty feet deep into the gorge. No lightsaber. No Rey. But he can hear the sounds of battle above him, the nightmarish crackle of lightning from the Emperor's fingertips. If Rey is still alive, she won't be for long.

Every muscle in his body screams in protest as he sits up. He ignores it. He needs to reach the top of this pit, either to celebrate their victory or mourn her loss.

The ragged walls of the chasm flicker with muted electricity, but when he touches it, there is no sudden surge of pain, no jolt through his nerves. It's almost as if the electricity is distracted… or perhaps siphoned for use elsewhere.

Leaving his broken leg to dangle uselessly beneath him, he climbs. The muscles in his arms seize and twitch with the strain and the residual effects of the Emperor's lightning, but they hold.

He reaches the top of the pit, and it is only then that he realizes it is silent in the hall.

The second thing he knows is fear.

His fingers cramp in protest as he pulls himself onto the floor, but he has come too far to give in to weakness now. He lands heavily, wincing despite himself, and starts the tortuous process of bringing himself to his feet. He knows, he already knows what he will find (the Force is silent too), but he needs to confirm it for himself. He owes her that much.

And there she is, face-down on the stone, far too limp even from afar. He has seen thousands of dead people, many by his own hand. The stillness is unmistakable. The void in the Force- the emptiness he sees when he tries to call upon their bond, like shouting into the vacuum of space- is further confirmation.

He's too late.

Broken bones be damned, he needs to reach her. One agonizing step, then another. He's forced to move in lurching strides to stay upright, but he manages all the way until the end. He's not sure if it's a conscious decision or merely his body finally giving in, but he collapses beside her. It's clumsy and awkward trying to maneuver her body into his arms, but finally there she is.

He pulls Rey close to him, burying his face against her, hoping beyond hope that he was wrong, that she'll wake up in his arms like she would in a child's bedtime story, that some tiny fragment of everything that Rey embodies is lying dormant where his senses cannot reach her. He thinks of Ben Solo wishing on a shooting star back when he was still allowed to be a child.

But he didn't get his wish back then, and he won't get it now. Rey is already starting to cool in his arms.

And it can't end like this- it isn't fair- the universe needs her- _he_ needs her- it shouldn't be her- it should have been him-

It should have been him.

She is everything good in the world, compassion and bravery and strength, so much strength. She never needed redemption because she never did anything that needed redeeming. And yet as good as she was, she saw the light within him, dragging him kicking and screaming into forgiveness, into hope.

It should have been him.

And suddenly he knows what he needs to do, and he has the strength to do it.

He places his hand on her, closes his eyes, and lets _go_.

He feels his power flow into her, first a trickle, then more, but not enough. Not enough. He's too late. He can't save her.

A hand touches his shoulder, followed by another, but he doesn't open his eyes, doesn't break his focus. Even if he did, he knows he wouldn't see anything. But he can feel their presence just the same. His parents.

And that's enough to finally push him over the brink, and he lets out a breath as he feels the last bits of life-force leave him. The hands on his shoulders vanish as he opens his eyes, but he hardly notices. Something far more important is happening in front of him.

Rey breathes.

He is still, not wanting to break this fragile miracle, not trusting his treacherous heart not to feed him sweet lies, not daring to hope.

She breathes again, and her eyes open, and the world is finally balanced and right.

He can feel her joy, her pure, overwhelming joy of being alive, of knowing that he is alive with her. They are one in the Force, and he knows her mind just as surely as she knows his.

"Ben," she says, full of wonder, and then she looks at him, really looks at him.

Her kiss is absolution.

He doesn't deserve it- how could he?- but he drinks it in, basks in her light and lets her warmth flood his soul. Through her, he is forgiven, redeemed, loved. Rey is with him and he is whole.

The last thing he knows is peace.


End file.
